Drowning in Emotions
by pedals-in-the-wind
Summary: Annabeth knew what sorrow was; it was heartbreaking how much she knew of it :: Leo is a dealor of grief :: Though Nico would never admit it, but he believed such tales / he believed he was worth less than a penny :: Shame ripped Percy to pieces :: - ! oneshots - beware of somewhat OOCness - ! ::


**yoooooo.**

**don't mind me posting random one-shots with l****egitimately ****no plot.**

**psh no. Me?**

**anyway- honestly I have NO idea what the hell this is about (as usual) so you've been warned from my heart's content.**

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**Disclaimer: don't own anything besides the words**

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Sorrow always hits those who experience the most. It hits those who've seen beyond their youth. It hits those whom do not deserve the pain it suppresses.

Sorrow is pain; it is guilt, a mighty burden hunched onto your shoulders preventing yourself from ever escaping from it.

Annabeth knew what sorrow was. It was heart breaking how much she knew of it.

She knew no one would understand- the pain she had gone through.

Luke had betrayed her, made her choose a side, made her be ripped between who she loved and her home.

Thalia gave Annabeth guilt and hope; she gave her gifts from that she didn't desire.

Percy supplied Annabeth with love and acceptance- only to be pried from her hands once again when he disappeared.

Annbeth's life has been hopeless. It's been a combination of pain and smashed hopes stirred together.

Her life has been anything but happy.

;;

Grief strikes those who suffer from memories. It is like a gift, but one not desired.

It is given to you, one way or another- whether that 'whom' likes it or not.

Leo is a dealer of grief. It haunts him every which way that his mother's death was his fault. And worst feats are there to come.

Though he knew better than to listen, but he couldn't just help from agreeing.

All his life he has been just a bad omen, a burden for all those who are welcome to experience the grief that thrives within himself.

Sometimes he wonders why he keeps gaining hope. Sometimes he finds himself pondering the very fabric of himself that has not been drenched in grief- of how it keeps itself from cracking.

And he keeps asking himself one question over and over again:

Why?

;;

Depression is a sign of sadness to those who are the loneliest.

It is not an omen, nor a burden- but a pain, streaming throughout the dilator's veins that keep reminding himself that he is not worth anything.

Though Nico would not admit it, but he believed in such tales.

He believed he was worth less than a penny, no more than a cheap tissue, or a sip of water.

His thoughts were always jumbled up- of how horrible his life was, of how messed up of a misfit he had become.

He could only get one thing straight: he would never belong.

Not just because he was a child of Hades, but of who he was as a person.

Sure, Hazel loved him- but one person was not enough.

Depression was a reminder to himself that he was worth nothing.

It was a reminder he was a misfit.

It was a reminder he would never belong.

;;

Shame is always a form of guilt bestowed upon the ones of the right and the ones of the wrong.

Shame is given to those who have failed- not just themselves but the others that look up to them.

Percy wished sometimes that he wasn't who he was, for shame had ripped him to pieces.

Others would look up to him, claiming as though he was a hero.

Just not in his eyes.

For he had failed too many times.

He failed all his friends in the war- leaving them to die, to decease. He failed Zoë, for not being able to save her.

Most of the time he wondered about how he was still alive.

About why he was, and why the others had to die and not himself.

Percy, to himself, thought he was no hero- for shame coaxed him in too much guilt.

The guilt of lives being lost.

The guilt of his ignorance of others emotions.

The guilt of whom he had failed.

For Percy didn't know why he was so important, nor may he ever.

In his own eyes he was no hero, but a pawn- given opportunities to prove himself great, while others did not receive such a gift.

But Percy did not care, no matter all the accomplishments that might lie ahead of him; he would never consider himself less than a useless being.

And he always will, for the rest of his life.

Because, just maybe, being a hero is nothing but a title- but the real ones are those who have died.

But we cannot admire them, they cannot supply us with the hope we need, yet a living one can.

And those people are barely anything than a simple pawn, ruled by a king.

Always getting played.

;;

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**whew this took too much freaking effort for a sleep deprived person at like 1:30 am. **

**and the ending is terrible and Percy's section makes absolutely zero sense but you know, eh. **

**aghhhhhhhh what ever.**

**Don't know what this is and I don't want to know.**

**Feel free to review, and I'll respond to you as soon as I can! **

**{aka boost my self esteem}**

**'Till next time **

_~ pedals-in-the-wind ~_


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